find me a miracle
by KuraGonzalez
Summary: He figures, if he's going to die anyway, he practically has the freedom to reveal anything he wants to. It's not like Dean will go around tomorrow and tell everyone and their mother that 'yo, the dead guy in the park? Yeah, he jerked off with the help of his dogs. Funny fella, quite handsome. What a shame he's pushing up daisies'.


Information about my surgery and the plan for the next few weeks can be found at my writing Tumblr **ambrollinsgirl**.

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At first, he didn't think anything of the footsteps behind him. After all, this is Las Vegas – you're never alone, no matter where you go. But when they didn't stop echoing through the night, following him everywhere, he started to get agitated.

Not quite frightened yet, but irritated.

While he walks through the streets – always making sure he doesn't trap himself in a dark, dingy alley – he searches for his phone in his pockets as casually as he can only to remember that he forgot it at home. Figures. The one time he direly needs it and he's stupid enough to leave it behind.

He doesn't pick up the speed, not wanting to alarm his stalker, but he refuses to slow down too. He needs a safe place as soon as possible. A café or a diner, maybe a casino. But all the places he goes by don't look very inviting and before he knows it, he's walking through a park.

 _A park._ In the middle of the night and with a creepy guy following him for almost half an hour now.

Alright, plan A – hide, you moron – just vanished into thin air. Plan B it shall be then. He needs to find a telephone, call his best friend Roman and wait for him to pick him up, to scare this lunatic away. Why didn't he think of taking his pepper spray with him?

But honestly, who expects being followed on their way home and having to defend themself? That stuff only happens in movies. His life has been so boring up until now, he never would have thought he'd one day have to fear for his life. For a second, he wants to take out his wallet and throw it at the guy, so he can leave him alone.

There's a picture of his niece in it though and he'd rather die than give that to some stranger who has nothing better to do than stalking people.

The moment he spots the phone booth, his heart jumps around happily in his chest and he almost misses the sound of footsteps getting louder. The other is gaining on him, coming closer rapidly. He's probably realized that there's a safe haven in the middle of nowhere and, what's even better, he could sic the cops on him.

Which sounds nice in theory, but what should he tell them? _Sorry, there's this guy walking through Vegas and he goes wherever I go. Can you come and arrest him?_ Since it's obviously a crime taking a hike these days. The police officers would probably only laugh at him, telling him there's nothing they can do since the man hasn't done anything yet.

But Roman will help him. He only has to say a word and his friend, his brother, will come running. That he looks like someone who could snap a neck with only his pinkies surely won't hurt either.

As soon as he's inside, he laughs nervously, slightly maniacally, because he wanted to jam the door with his body but then he saw that there's a lock. Okay, the guy could smash the windows but that takes a while and he has time to call anyone he wants in the meantime.

And should his follower try to get in, the police would have a reason to detain him. He instantly feels better, but his hands are still shaking violently when he takes out the last money he has. He never thought an old-fashioned phone booth would one day be a place he'd feel safe in.

He shoves the coins into the device and punches in Roman's numbers while trying to get his hands under control. He can't believe a random guy could make him lose his cool like this. It's not like he never walked alone through Vegas at night before.

Why he decided to let the paranoia conquer him today is really a mystery to him.

His heart almost jumps out of his ribcage when he finally hears his best friend pick up the phone. For a while he feared his brother wouldn't answer. 'Rome,' he yells into the receiver, tears welling up in his eyes. He's never been so relieved to talk to someone.

His friend stays quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts at this late hour and when he replies the blood in his veins runs cold. 'Cincinnati.' This isn't Roman.

Seth's knees threaten to give out, so he steadies himself with a hand on the door, the danger outside forgotten for now. His whole body had been so focused on hearing the Samoan's calm voice that it's about to cease to function. 'What?' he croaks out, feeling utterly helpless and forsaken.

'I'm from Cincinnati. Not Roman,' comes the quiet response and Seth rubs over his eyes, trying to stay composed. Alright, this is a tiny setback but not the end of the world. He's not alone with that crazy guy out there anymore and that's all that matters. It's not exactly good that he called someone in Ohio, but hey, he'll take anything at the moment.

As long as there's another human being talking to him, he can deal with this awful situation.

'Who is this?' he asks, turning his head to the side to get a look at his stalker. Seth almost cries out loud when he makes out the silhouette of the man next to a tree only a few feet away from him. He's going to die while he's on the phone with God knows who.

Or, he'll be just another victim once his money runs out and the call ends. All the more reason to make this stranger on the phone his ally for the time being.

A dark, rough yet strangely comforting voice answers him, 'No, buddy. Question is, who are you and why are you calling me in the dead of the night.' The other doesn't sound angry which is a good sign. Seth can only make out drowsiness, yet that guy is still quick-witted enough to joke about the Roman thing.

'Please, don't hang up,' he begs, closing his eyes to blend out reality and all the horrible images flashing through his mind whenever he thinks of that sicko waiting for him to exit the booth. He doesn't want to go belly-up yet. 'I need your help.'

Seth has to cover his mouth, starting to feel sick when the guy on the phone grunts a disbelieving, 'Uh-huh.' He is losing the man and he can't let that happen. Who knows if his stalker has a weapon? He'll never be able to open the door as long as the sun isn't up.

'Someone is following me. Please stay on the phone, please stay with me.' A short silence makes Seth open his eyes again and for a dreadful moment he's convinced his follower is standing right in front of the booth, but then he realizes it's only his reflection.

The man sighs and mutters, 'Ya serious?' Gladly it's not as grumpy as it was before. Seems as if Seth's begging didn't fall on deaf ears. 'Yes,' he breathes, so freaking elated that he's not alone right now. Maybe he won't end up buried deep in the ground until a dog picks up the smell of his rotten body and digs his bones up again.

'I walked home from my best friend and this hooded guy went everywhere I went too. He's been on my tail for over half an hour now and he's just standing there between the trees, watching me. I locked myself into a telephone booth but I'm in this really dark corner of a park. I don't have my mobile with me and I tried to call my best friend Rome but I dialed your number instead and now you're the only one I can talk to, so please don't hang up.'

He stops himself to breathe since he didn't do that during his little speech, and starts to fidget with the telephone cable when the guy doesn't respond. 'Still there?' Seth whispers, suddenly scared to death that the other won't believe him. That he'll leave him here to die, griping _calm your tits_ before doing so.

'Where are you?' Huh? The question startles him and he needs a moment to register what the man wants from him. 'Aren't you in Cincinnati?' There's a groan on the other end and Seth can make out the rustling of sheets. Looks like he yanked the man out of his sleep.

God, he wishes he could be in a bed now too, where it's safe and secure. The other's voice sounds so interesting and warm that he catches himself thinking he would like to lie next to him to hear it every day of his life.

'I said I'm _from_ Cincinnati, not that I'm there right now. I live in Vegas too.' _Sweet Lord, thank you very much._ If he can convince the guy to help him, then Seth will live to see another day. His sad existence won't end tonight, he won't be forgotten just like that.

'Centennial Hills Park,' he murmurs into the phone, his body finally stopping the uncontrollable shaking. 'I'm Seth,' he adds, smiling for the first time in what seems forever when the man on the other end of the line mumbles a surprised but gentle _Dean_ back.

Dean. He'll forever be deeply indebted to him.

'I can be there in twenty minutes, ten if I run,' the other says without hesitating and Seth is stunned into silence. He never thought Dean would suggest to come and get him even though he secretly hoped he would.

'Just don't hang up the phone,' he pleads, sure he can survive those eight to ten minutes after making it through over thirty already. Besides, he's safe in the booth for now yet he wouldn't be able to stand the quiet. Not after listening to Dean's breathing and his deep voice.

'Don't worry, I'm not that heartless.' Hm. The other doesn't sound that mean on the phone. Seth has a hard time imagining the man to be a bad person. Right now, he can't allow himself to do so, since Dean will come and escort him out of this park, away from the perpetrator.

He dares to take a quick peek at the shadows and his heart beats painfully against his ribcage when the dark figure moves an arm. Seth's mouth drops open the moment he realizes that the guy is waving at him. Slow and calculating, as if he knows exactly that he's trapped in the booth and that he'll have to come out sooner or later.

The next ten minutes can't pass fast enough.

'Tell me how you look like, so I can call the police,' Dean urges him, the sound of a belt being buckled yanking Seth out of his stupor. A complete stranger is getting dressed to come and save him because he's being followed by someone and all Seth can think about is that he can't even remember the last time he got laid or heard someone put on their clothes right next to his ear.

He's been alone for so long that he forgot how another human being worrying about him feels like. Roman doesn't count, since they've known each other their entire lives and he's constantly doing that.

Maybe it's the fear of losing everything now that a real threat is out there, waiting in the dark for him to make a mistake, and the sudden, hardcore wish to _live_. Otherwise he can't explain why he's thinking about another person's appearance and sex appeal while he's in peril.

'What will you tell them? I mean, why should they bother? So far, he hasn't done anything.' Jeez, listen to him, sounding like a baby. He's not a kid anymore, shouldn't be so scared by a person walking through the streets with him at night. This Dean must think he's an idiot for crying wolf when nothing is amiss.

He hears a thoughtful hum and light footsteps before the other returns reassuringly, 'I'll say my boyfriend is getting harassed by someone and that he's trapped in a phone booth. Course I'm gonna mention a weapon et voilà, they're on their way. Please tell me he doesn't threaten you with a knife.'

Seth's body tenses and he has to swallow multiple times. He never even thought about that option. Sure, he considered his imminent death but he never imagined he could get stabbed in the dead of the night, his only company a stranger who would lie to the police for him without batting an eye.

He can only dream of a boyfriend like this. Especially now that Dean accidentally talked him into believing this evening will end with a bullet hole in his head. Why did he say no to Rome's offer to crash on the guest bed? Oh right, because he thought spending the night alone in his dark loft to maybe jerk off because _hey, I have nothing better to do and it beats crying into my pillows since no one loves me, except for my dogs_ would be a great idea. What could possibly go wrong, right?

'You still there? Don't make me freak out, buddy.' 'I don't know,' he whispers, clutching the speaker until it creaks. 'I'm afraid to look at him.' Dean doesn't call him a wussy, won't force him to be a man and face his fear. He only talks in an even tone, telling Seth that it's okay but that sooner or later he needs to know if his life is in danger. Because he won't run a mile for a dying, fake boyfriend.

Seth has to chuckle and he appreciates the exhausted warmth spreading through his veins at that. Dean must be an awesome friend and he is eternally grateful that he dialed the wrong number. Roman would do the same, he knows, but never before has a complete foreigner done anything this big for him; up until today he thought that civil courage and chivalry was dead.

'Now tell me whaddya look like, I gotta call them.' Seth takes a deep breath and retches. He only now realizes that the phone booth _stinks_. Urine, vomit, his own sweat and the stench of fear make his eyes water. God, he won't be able to stay in here for much longer. Otherwise he'll add his own contribution to this not so impressive collection.

He decides to breathe through the mouth from now on, hoping he'll be able to hang on until Dean is here. 'Well, if my _boyfriend_ wants to know,' he starts, feeling a weird tingling pain in his chest while saying the word that hurts him so much. 'I'm twenty-eight, six foot one, two hundred and twenty-five pounds, brown eyes, shoulder long hair, beard. I also have a brown and a blond patch.'

The scribbling sounds stop abruptly and Seth doesn't know how to interpret the silence. It's not like they have all the time in the world, but Dean can't help himself. He seemingly has to ask, 'You got what?' 'A blond and a brown patch,' Seth answers hurriedly, fingers automatically running through his hair. This has always been the eye-catcher. It is the reason people look at him and realize that whoops, there's a living person.

'Say that again.' What, is he deaf? 'I have a blond and a–' And then it hits him. This is not the right moment for jokes. 'Not funny,' he adds when Dean starts snickering. The man really has nerves of steel, it seems.

'Sorry, man. I can't wait to see you,' the other cackles, not sounding the least bit ashamed for wasting time or making fun of Seth. He and Roman would be best friends. 'You owe me your dashing looks,' he grunts into the phone, feeling at a disadvantage now that Dean knows how to recognize him.

The other evades the question, asking instead, 'What's he doin'?' Seth spares a moment to think about how sexy and hot Dean sounds. Then it hits him that almost all voice actors do but whenever you see a picture of them you can't help but be disappointed because reality always loses against fantasy.

Or you think they sound your age and then you read that they're actually already sixty.

'I don't want to look,' he confesses, fearing that the man is standing on the other side of the door, waiting for the time Seth has to come out.

Dean doesn't reprimand him or laugh at his gutlessness. No, he gets a tender, 'It's alright, 'm here. You're locked inside the telephone booth, he can't hurt you.' After bolstering him up, the other moves on. 'But I need to know. Just one quick glance. I'm with ya, Seth. Breathe with me.'

He follows Dean's instructions, inhaling deeply with the man that represents the light in the nothingness the stalker outside trapped him in and turns around, screaming panic-stricken when the hooded figure walks two steps towards him, 'He's coming closer. Dean, he'll break the glass, he'll get to me.'

This is the end of the road. His last night on earth. He hasn't even achieved anything in his life yet. He's still single, he has no family, no house, no fancy car, didn't plant a tree or see the world. All he ever did was working his butt off, not enjoying life to the fullest.

He has wasted his time for nothing and there's still so much he wants to do. Like seeing this Dean in person and talk to him without death lurking just around the corner. The other sounds like a guy he could have a lot of fun with.

'Don't worry, Seth, he won't lay a finger on you, okay? I'm not gonna let that happen. Promise.' For some strange reason, he catches himself believing the words for a while. 'I'll call the cops now but I'm gonna stay on the phone with you.' Oh good; he was ready to lose his nerve again because he thought Dean would end the call.

'Please hurry,' he whispers feebly. He starts shivering once more, can't stop his body from doing so, now that his stalker is slowly, teasingly closing the distance between them. The guy is getting bolder while Seth is trapped in a glass house – what was he thinking hiding in here?

There is also a huge lump in his throat, making it hard to breathe or talk. So he squeezes his eyes shut, which might not be his wisest decision, considering there's someone watching his every move, listening to Dean talking.

The other's voice is still close but Seth can hear that he doesn't hold his mobile to his ear at the moment. 'Hello? My boyfriend is in danger. Some guy has been following him all night and now he's stuck in a phone booth in the Centennial Hills Park.'

Dean sounds like he's in a rush and Seth feels oddly better because it means he's not crazy. The stranger on the phone believes him, can sense that he is indeed in danger and tries to help him in any way possible. He could have hung up, but he stayed with him. No words can ever express how thankful Seth is for that.

'Ambrose. Dean,' the other speaks on after giving the police a detailed description of him and Seth's ears prick up. _Ambrose_. He now has a last name. And what a nice one. 'No, he doesn't know who the man is. A guy in a hoodie. Yeah, I'm on the phone with him. Says, he thinks he saw something in his hands but it's too dark to really tell.'

His savior is doing a terrific job of faking to be the worried sick partner and Seth is finally able to draw air into his lungs. Deep down, he wants to have faith that everything is going to be okay, that this mysterious Dean will make it all better. It's the same feeling he gets when Rome hugs him. A sense of security and affection.

'I'm really concerned for his safety. Yeah, thanks, I'll tell him. I will, yes. Thank you. Seth?' the other addresses him again, the dark, warm voice wrapping him into a soft, invisible blanket. 'Yes?' he shoots back, though he has to clear his throat twice before the word comes out.

'A unit is on its way and I'm out the door. Be right there.' Oh, thank God. 'Is he still coming closer?' Does he really have to look at the stalker? All he wants to do is sit down in the puddle of urine and vomit and weep until Dean is here. But he turns around nonetheless, not wanting to aggravate his rescuer or make him think he's a coward.

'No, he's still at the trees, but he keeps waving at me. Wait,' he murmurs, squinting to get a better look. 'I think he's wearing a mask. Yeah, definitely.' Creepy. What the heck is wrong with this guy?

'A ski mask?' Dean asks and Seth can hear that he tries not to breathe too heavily into the phone while he runs at full speed from his home to the park. He can't tell how freaking happy that makes him. That someone – other than Roman – cares so much that they risk their life for him.

And this Dean Ambrose guy doesn't even know him. He could be luring him into a trap, feigning to be a damsel in distress to murder or kidnap him once he made it here. The other graces him with a blind trust that not many people are capable of having these days.

Quite frankly, it makes him feel special.

'No,' he slowly answers, not able to tear his gaze away from the man hiding in the shadows. 'A Halloween one. He looks like that puppet from the movie _Saw_. You know, the horror series that only had one really good part and the rest just went downhill but was still funny. I love horror movies, they always make me laugh.'

'Don't watch those,' Dean manages to squeeze out, the sound of shoes hitting the asphalt filling his ear. Doesn't matter that his new friend – because he sure as heck won't let that awesome human being walk out of his life – isn't a horror or splatter fan. He has Roman for those movie nights. Seth wouldn't mind having someone to watch romance stuff and things that make him cry with.

'He's freaking me out.' Who buys himself this mask and wears it to scare off people in the middle of summer? 'I'll be there soon,' Dean repeats his earlier promise, his breathing even but really fast. 'So will the cops. Once he hears the sirens, he'll run off anyway.'

Seth wishes he could trust in that. But the guy doesn't mind him staring at the red circles on his cheeks, obviously talking on the phone about him. A few police officers are probably what he eats for breakfast. This is all a game to him and it won't stop until he has done what he came here for. Oh, _now_ the mask makes sense.

Crap.

'Thank you for everything.' He's not yet giving up, but he has the sinking feeling that even with Dean on his way, this will end poorly. 'Don't mention it. So, you from Vegas?' He appreciates that the other wants to distract him, so he shows some effort to hold it together just a little while longer.

'Iowa, Davenport. I moved here two years ago because of a job offer my best friend gave me.' 'This Ro guy you tried to call initially,' Dean assumes correctly, voice as loud as the footsteps that tell Seth with every booming thump that help is on the way.

'Roman, yes.' Even though he's not the one speeding through the city, he sweats and shivers, fingers tapping nervously on his thigh while he won't leave the hooded person out of his sight. Maybe if he keeps on looking, the other will rethink his actions and just disappear.

The man resumes his waving, cocking his head to the side which makes everything only worse and ten times more horrifying. 'Dean, where are you?' he rasps, his whole being yearning to see a figure stepping into the light of the booth to stand protectively in front of him.

'North Buffalo Drive.' Huh. He just walked home from Roman on that street. 'You're doin' great. Tell me more bout ya.' How Dean can still talk while running will forever be a miracle to him but he's thankful for that particular gift.

'I'm a cook. Or was a cook. Now I'm a restaurateur. I miss standing in the kitchen more than I can tell.' A faint chuckling reaches his ears, making him smile weakly. 'What do you do?' Since Dean asked and Seth is curious too. He doesn't care if it's only a strategy to prevent him from going bananas.

Dean stops a few heartbeats to catch his breath, wheezing into the phone, 'Right now, I wish I'd do something that'd get me to you faster but I only work in an animal shelter.' 'I have two dogs,' he remarks, voice thin and broken.

'Hey, hey, don't give me that cheerless, _I'm throwing in the towel_ tone. I'm on my way. Nothing will happen to you.' He continues to listen to Dean's loud breathing and bites on his lip when the stranger outside moves towards him as if he's heard the words too.

'Oh my God,' he murmurs, feeling his heart hammer in his throat. Even if he'd be The Flash, Dean wouldn't be here fast enough. 'It's okay, you're safe,' comes the instant reassurance but this is getting too much for Seth to bear. The other won't stop creeping towards him and there's still no sign of a moving figure in the darkness.

He flinches violently when the masked man bangs his fist against the phone booth, the door vibrating under the impact. 'He's getting in. Dean, he's trying to break the glass. Oh God, he'll shatter it. He'll get to me.' His rescuer refuses to give up that easily, reminding him, 'He won't. 'm almost there. It isn't over till it's over.'

It might soon be because that psycho reaches into his jeans pocket and takes out a shiny object. His worst nightmares are just coming true. 'Dean, he has a knife,' he all but yells into the receiver, fear crawling up his spine, making him nauseous. Seth watches helplessly how the masked guy lifts his arm and hammers the handle against the door, flinching every time it connects.

'I won't let him get to you,' his helper grunts into the phone but Seth can barely hear him. He's too fixated on the tiny crack forming on the door, little spider-web like ruptures running over the glass with each hit. It's over, he realizes petrified. There are no sirens in the distance and who knows when Dean will really be here. The North Buffalo Drive is endless.

'I'm sorry for dragging you into this,' he whispers, a second away from just closing his eyes to pretend if he can't see it, then it's not real. He's just about to give in to his fate when Dean casually says, 'Beats jerking off while three cats watch my every move.'

He can't help it, Seth has to laugh even though there are tears in his eyes. His gaze follows the knife that's flashing dangerously in the artificial light of the telephone booth. Seth can feel his ribcage squeeze tight each time it connects with the fragile surface, and his sanity shatters some more with every new crease.

'At least cats don't want to help you with that. I have to lock my dogs out because they keep on licking my dick.' He figures, if he's going to die anyway, he practically has the freedom to reveal anything he wants to. It's not like Dean will go around tomorrow and tell everyone and their mother that _yo,_ _the dead guy in the park? Yeah, he jerked off with the help of his dogs. Funny fella, quite handsome. What a shame he's pushing up daisies._

The other doesn't make fun of him, just chuckles joyfully. 'I can understand 'em. I like to do that too.' Seth wishes he'd have the energy left to do more than just smile weakly. He can't believe he's finally found a guy who gives as good as he gets mere moments before he'll bite the dust.

'The glass is about to break,' he informs Dean with more composure than he thought he'd have in a moment like this. It's strangely peaceful, with a nice person in his ear that runs as fast as the wind to save him. 'I'm glad I had the chance to get to know you.' And he really is. He only wishes he'd have dialed the wrong number years ago.

'Don't give me that bullshit, Seth,' Dean barks into the phone and for the first time tonight he sounds genuinely scared. 'I can see the park already. Hold on for another minute or two.' It's not like Seth has a choice or any control over the situation. Once the glass shatters he'll lose his safe haven, no matter if his personal Barry Allen is here or not.

He closes his eyes, not willing to stare into a stupid movie mask, making this the last thing he'll ever see, imagining Dean instead, unfortunately without a face though. 'I wish I could have seen you,' he murmurs, inhaling deeply as the glass breaks and shards hit him in the face.

His _we could have been great friends_ must have heard it too, since he yells, 'Seth? _Seth_? Listen to me, you gotta fight. Defend yourself, I'm almost there. And I can hear the cops. _Fight._ You hear me?' He does, but what could he do? He's not armed, trapped in a glass cubicle and never cared about learning how to defend himself.

Seth laughs mirthlessly, listening to the masked guy trying to enlarge the tiny hole he's already bashed into the door. 'Think we could ever have had a date?' 'Are you kidding?' Dean huffs, sounding so freaking tender that his body relaxes on its own accord.

'I'd never say no to a two-toned boyfriend.' Even now the other is trying to comfort him, so he won't lose all hope. Doesn't he at least owe it to him to try and fight off his offender? Dean ran through Vegas in the middle of the night for him, so Seth should make sure he gets one last, good look at him before he kicks the bucket. Always better than staring into the creepy mask of a movie doll.

He breathes in, trying to be brave, asking shakily, 'What should I do?' Dean sighs relieved, muttering hurriedly, 'Is the door broken?' Seth assesses the damage, avoiding to stare at the man behind the shattered glass who doesn't make a single sound – honestly, he expected some animalistic grunting or weird, sexual noises. But there's nothing. For some reason that's even more unsettling.

'There's a hole in it and he tries to make it bigger.' 'Can you safely grab the knife and disarm him?' What kind of question is that? Sure, Seth grew up swinging countless knives which is also why he knows how dangerous they are. And that exemplar looks like it could effortlessly cut through his flesh.

'No,' he answers grumpily. He's no superhero, what does Dean assume he's capable of? Though, it's a bit flattering that he thinks so highly of him. 'Then make sure he focuses on the hole and unlock the door.' Okay, no. The heck? Is Dean trying to get him killed?

'Are you out of your mind?' he hisses, his attacker stopping to move for the fraction of a second. Seems like his outburst even surprised a psychopath. Dean keeps his cool and simply orders him, 'Do it. Push it open the moment he reaches for you and push as hard as you can. I can see you, ya hear me? I'm as good as there.'

Seth wants to turn around and search for Dean but he concentrates on doing what the other has told him. Knowing that he's finally arrived gives him enough courage to fight.

Glass gets stuck in his hair and he tastes blood in his mouth but he wills himself to blend everything else out. His only focus is the lock on the door and that one instant the hole is big enough to fit an arm as well as a knife. One heartbeat later it's the size of a bottom plate and the weapon shoots out of if and into his safety zone.

He doesn't feel the cold blade pierce his skin, adrenalin in his veins making him blind for everything that doesn't involve catching the weirdo off-guard just like Dean told him to.

Seth's left arm gets warm but he doesn't make the connection between a wound and blood starting to gather at his feet. He pushes as hard as he can, causing his stalker to stagger back after being hit at full tilt, the whole glass of the door falling down, leaving Seth with no shield whatsoever.

Now he can finally hear the blaring sirens in the distance but the sound of footsteps is much louder. This time they don't upset him because they mean Dean kept his word. This horrible night is about to come to an end and Seth isn't alone anymore. He might even survive this incident.

A guy – tall and clad in jeans and a shirt that flatters not only his biceps but also the six-pack; holy hell, do people who work in animal shelters really look like that nowadays? – tackles that Jigsaw sicko to the ground, struggling with the man to yank the knife out of his hands. After running at full speed for seven minutes straight he still has enough stamina to engage in a physical fight. Hats off.

Seth recognizes a red trail on the blade, his gaze wandering from the two brawling figures to the blood spatters on the earth until he compreheds that his shirt is torn at the shoulder, a clean cut releasing his vital fluid, staining his favorite black and white striped Glamour Kills tee.

Suddenly, everything happens at once and Seth can only watch baffled how Dean – a man with adorable, curled hair and a really cute nose – manages to take the weapon and throw it a few feet away while several armed officers come closer with their guns pointed at them, shouting _freeze_ and _lie down, hands behind your head_.

Someone yanks him out of the broken booth and away from the scene, from Dean, while demanding an ambulance. First he thinks he's supposed to call one – a sarcastic remark already on his tongue – but then he gets that the police officer said that into his radio.

When they rip the mask off the man's face Seth can't believe his eyes. He envisioned to see someone with scars and a disheveled appearance but his stalker looks like a normal person. Sure he seems to hate life in general and has too many skull tattoos covering his shoulders and probably also his arms but to each his own, right? All in all, it scares Seth how sane this person appears to be.

Someone treats his shoulder wound, bandages him, asks him all kinds of questions while Seth can only stare in wonder at Dean; his whole being itches to be close to the man who threw himself into the line of fire without hesitating for a guy he doesn't even know and who jerked him out of his dream or interrupted his masturbation time. He's not sure it wasn't just a joke earlier.

A strangely familiar voice cuts through the air and Seth instantly smiles. He'll forever feel protected just by thinking of Dean. 'Can I see my boyfriend now? Thank you.' He sounds ticked off, as if he would have loved to punch an officer for keeping him away from the person he single-handedly salvaged.

His rescuer jogs towards him – a small part on the front of his shirt covered in sweat from dashing here as fast as he could – and Seth bows his head, holding his injured arm. He's not yet ready to get out of the ambulance, knowing his knees wouldn't carry him.

Now that the adrenaline has left his body, he's just a scared mess. But alive and that's all that counts.

'You alright?' Dean asks, not waiting for an answer, hugging him tight and Seth instinctively pulls him in closer, not caring about the stinging pain in his shoulder, breathing in a mixture of perfume, sweat and security.

'You saved my life,' he buzzes, too tired to raise his voice but he likes it better this way. There are too many people running around like headless chicken surrounding them and he doesn't want anyone to overhear this. He's so grateful that this man threw caution in the wind and helped him out.

Not only did he stay on the phone with him, never once leaving Seth alone with the perpetrator, he also risked his own life by fighting with his stalker. Other than Roman Seth knows no one who would give it all up in a heartbeat for him. And Rome is his big brother, his childhood friend.

Dean Ambrose on the other hand is a stranger. Seth honestly has to admit that he doesn't know if he'd have had the guts to do the same. Dean is a truly amazing human being.

'Piece o' cake,' the other whispers into his ear, hot breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, while rubbing a hand over his spine in tranquilizing motions. This is not a show for the police or his stalker – now that he's safe there's no need to keep up the facade.

Sure, they'd get reprimanded for lying to the cops but a life was at stake. People will understand that sooner or later.

This is Dean being truly concerned about him after speaking to him on the phone for maybe fifteen minutes. Tops. Seth feels like they've known each other for centuries already.

'Mr Rollins? Excuse me, I know it's untimely, but could you answer us a few questions?' a young, female police officer asks him and Seth can't help but think how badass she must be as a cop, because she looks like a real life fairy princess and everyone knows still waters run deep.

He nods, happy to see such a beautiful and friendly face, and Dean gets ready to give him some privacy, maybe even skulk off unseen, so he grabs the other around the wrist and insists, 'Don't leave me.' He's blessed with a gentle smile and his heart does a little backflip when Dean accepts his extended hand to hold it in his own.

'Wouldn't dream of it.' The other wants to be here, stay at his side until all of this is over and Seth himself doesn't understand yet how joyous that makes him. The world rights itself the moment their gazes meet; he has never felt this content before.

The blond woman with red died hair tips looks over to the man in custody and back to them, asking professionally, 'Do you know someone named Randy Orton?' The name rings next to no bell. 'No,' he shakes his head, glancing at Dean who obviously has no idea either. Up until tonight, he didn't even know Seth existed.

'Never heard of him. What's his story?' Officer Bliss – seriously, how cute can she get? – squints her eyes, apparently disapproving with this Randy Orton's mindset. She steps closer, and she even smells like a flower field, sharing the delicate information.

'We found a couple of pictures of you in his backpack as well as a rope, gun, chloroform and some other distrubing things. He evidently had some plans for you. You're lucky your partner was close by. We assume he wanted to kidnap, torture, possibly even murder you. If the time stamps on the back of the photographs are correct, he's been following you for quite some time already.'

This is a lot to take in. How can someone hate a complete stranger so much that they want to annihilate them? 'I– I never– Today was the first time I noticed him.' He shivers, feeling dirty for some reason. Like the stranger touched him and left his fingerprints all over his body. As if someone marked his soul and he'll never be able to get rid of it again.

Little Miss Bliss smiles at Dean and it's all white teeth and total gratefulness. 'Like I said, good thing Mr Ambrose wasn't too far away. I guess he was headed your direction.' There's a glint in her eyes that makes Seth think she knows they aren't a couple but she won't ever tell a soul, honoring Dean's moral courage.

'He was,' his boyfriend for the night replies defiantly, but there's a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 'Any clue why he wanted to kill my boy?'

Could they just stop talking about this and get out of here? He feels uncomfortable with this Orton guy staring at him from the back of the car, even though one really gruff looking officer is guarding him while another, red-bearded guy tries to get some information out of him. A second female officer – her tag reads Flair; what is it with these kick-ass women having not really threatening names? –, also blond but not nearly as pixie-like, sizing their newest prisoner up.

Officer Bliss shakes her head, real remorse showing on her face. 'No, Sir, he hasn't told us anything yet. You need to come to the station first thing in the morning so we can record your statement. I sincerely hope we can tell you more then. Sir, do you want to go to the hospital overnight?'

And leave Dean here? Heck, no. Besides, he's not mortally wounded, only emotionally scarred and traumatized forever. He'll need a long, long while to stop seeing this darn mask every time he turns around on the street from now on. This Randy a-hole ruined him for years to come.

'Thank you, Miss Bliss,' he declines her offer and she mutters, grinning brightly, 'Alexa.' Why are people so damn nice to him tonight? All he had to do was get into danger and suddenly everyone turns into Roman? Or maybe he just socialized with the wrong people up until now; his brother excluded.

'Thank you, Alexa, but I'm okay. I think I want to go home now.' Hide in the safety of four walls that can't ever be broken down with a knife handle. Sleep for a thousand years and forget this night happened. Erase the memory of a guy named Randy Orton out of his mind because it's really alarming that there's someone who wants to kill him for no apparent reason.

'Of course,' Miss Flower Queen agrees, her kind face turning thoughtful. 'Are you good to leave? Do you need any assistance?' 'I just want to go to bed, to be honest.'

She smiles again and Seth swears, the stars instantly shine a bit brighter. Though it might just be the normal Vegas sky, but he likes to imagine she is a source of light in the terrifying darkness he stepped into tonight. 'Get some rest then. I'm sure you will take good care of him.'

Dean smirks, ruffling through Seth's blond patch with a delighted sparkle in his blue eyes. 'If I risk getting stabbed for this buffoon, then I sure as hell won't abandon him to deal with the aftermath on his own.' Does this mean Dean really won't go, resuming to live his life like he did before – only now with the knowledge that he did a good deed and that there's someone out there who'll consider him his life preserver for the rest of eternity?

'Do you want me to drive you home?' He shakes his head, mumbling weakly, 'Please, don't trouble yourself on my account.'

She clicks her tongue disapprovingly, ushering them to her patrol car. 'It's the least we can do for you. So, where to?' Alexa asks them for the direction and Dean gives her his address without thinking twice about it. 'Real Quiet Drive.' She giggles, beaming at him through the rearview mirror. He can understand her amusement, the name doesn't quite fit Dean's quirky character.

They drive away from the crime scene and Seth watches the street lights flash by, suddenly getting nervous again. He shouldn't go home with a stranger after escaping another one who wanted to end his existence but he's so goddamn tired and Dean literally saved his life, plus they're already there before Seth has come to a decision. He's not able to think straight and it's too late now anyway.

'Thank you so much,' he addresses the police officer once more but she only waves it off. 'Sir, your boyfriend,' she says with a wink, 'is the one you should thank. I was just doing my job. Have a quiet night and I'll see you at the station tomorrow.' With that Tinker Bell takes off to pick up her partner and hopefully beat the truth out of Randy Orton.

They stand in front of a whole assembly of neat houses and Seth realizes dumbfounded that he knows the area. Man, weird how life sometimes works. 'Real Quiet Drive?' he jokes shyly and Dean nods towards his comfy looking home, chuckling, 'True to its name.'

He points down the street, somewhere to the east and says, 'Roman lives a bit over there. I was on my way home from him. Samoan, tall guy, dark long hair, scruff, tattoo on the right shoulder and arm, adorable daughter and wife.'

Dean smiles apologetically, shrugging, 'I don't really pay attention to my human neighbors. I can tell you everything about the animals here though, since they're always welcome in my humble abode.' A white knight through and through.

Well, looks like this is the end then. Rome is nearby, so he can go back there and tell him everything – he'll probably flip his shit and send Dean for the rest of their lives gift baskets – and fall asleep in his friend's strong arms.

Though he'll miss Dean. He'd have loved to get to know him some more – the man not only has a very alluring voice, he's also pretty hot. Totally hot. Smoking hot, to be honest. Maybe he'll come back one day, ask the man out on a date or just a coffee, invite him to his restaurant to prepare a _thanks for saving my butt_ dinner.

With a heavy heart he steps back and declares, 'I think I'll manage the way to him alone. Thank yo–' 'Nope,' is all Dean says, the finality of it making Seth shut up. He waits for more, for some kind of explanation as to why he shouldn't seek out his family but instead stay with a guy he barely knows.

'You will sleep here tonight, where I can have an eye on you. I am not letting you out of my sight again. We just met.' This is getting oddly deep, way more intimate than Seth feels comfortable with after a night like this. He'd have to lie though if he'd say Dean's way of thinking doesn't excite him or doesn't turn him on. It's been so long since someone wanted him in their bedroom.

Dean surely has no ulterior motive; just wishes to make sure he gets through the night. So Seth retorts mockingly, taking the sting out of everything, 'Don't you want to finish your masturbation session I so crudely interrupted?' The other smiles at him and Seth's breath hitches in his throat. _Dimples_. His biggest weak spot.

'Maybe I need a helping hand.' So much for trying to stultify this. He has to swallow hard, his gaze automatically wandering over Dean's ripped body and his mind takes him to a dimly lit bedroom.

Intense experiences make people want to hump each other, since they're glad to still be alive. But in the end it never works out. However, rules are meant to be broken and Dean looks like someone who has mastered the art of going against the grain.

Exactly what Seth needs. Someone who shows him the wild side of life, how to have fun while laughing danger in the face. Chaos to balance out his order. The unknown. A kindred spirit. A person with a hard shell and a soft core, a heart of gold.

'I'm injured,' he gripes, pointing at the bandaged arm. Dean grins, shooting back immediately, 'You're right-handed.' Jeez, the other is smart and perceptive. He hasn't even seen him write something down and still knows this.

'Come on, fox, let's get you inside and in the bed and we'll see what the rest of the night has in store for us. And hey, since we haven't had a chance to properly do that, I'm Dean. Pleased to meet ya in person.' He shakes the hand he has hold and memorized already, snickering, 'Seth.'

They walk to the door and Dean checks his jeans pockets before he shrugs and bends down to pick up a stone to get his spare key. He doesn't even care that Seth knows now where he stores it. Wow, he isn't used to anyone, other than Roman, being so chill.

Dean was in such a hurry to get to him that he forgot his house keys. That's so sweet.

'I have to warn you though, I have a very protective boyfriend.' His hopefully new companion laughs and Seth has to clutch his chest. It's such a heart-warming sound, making him mellow and giddy in an instant. And then those freaking dimples. Las Vegas is full of beautiful people.

'Why not?' Dean shrugs and Seth stops breathing. The other's completely earnest, considering this thing like they've dated for weeks already. 'You don't look half as stupid as I thought you would when you told me about your blond patch. I definitely wouldn't mind waking up to you.'

Romantic, isn't he? 'Or sucking you off.' Yeah, forget that he ever called Dean that. Someone is awfully blunt. Seth has to admit that he likes it.

'I owe you,' he stammers, too flustered by the honesty to react to the suggestion and Dean's playful expression makes way for a solemn one. 'Glad I could help. The world would be a sadder place without you in it.'

No, let him correct himself again. Dean _is_ romantically minded. He just has a peculiar way of showing it. Sure life with him is very entertaining. Now that Seth got a small taste of it, he wants more. He tasted blood, so to speak and like the good hound he is, he won't lose the scent again.

They step into the dark house and Seth is pleasantly surprised when Dean turns on the light, revealing a kind of charismatically disorganized but cozy home. At first most of his things don't seem to fit together but at closer inspection it makes perfect sense that the other bought it all.

It's nothing compared to Seth's spotlessly clean loft, but then again, it feels way more like a living soul can come to rest here. It's a home and one can sense that by walking through the rooms. Seth's flat is purely functional – the place he eats and sleeps –, he left all his meaningful possessions in Davenport.

Dean though _lives_ and doesn't just let himself be reduced to fit a certain pattern. It says a lot that Seth can see all that simply by looking at his interior furnishing.

His stomach rumbles loudly when he steps into the kitchen and he ask bashfully, 'You have any food? I'm starving.' He's always been a stress eater and if tonight isn't a reason to stuff himself with nom noms he doesn't know. Dean cocks his head, jutting his chin towards the fridge. 'You'd have to cook it, Jamie Oliver.'

Ugh. 'You know what? I eat takeout too.' An amused chuckle reaches his ears, his cheeks blushing furiously. Almost everything Dean lets slip out of his mouth sounds either obscene or teasing. Seth is already addicted to it.

'Then another phone call we shall make. I dial, I don't trust you with that,' Dean taunts him, urging him up the stairs and into his bedroom. 'Shower's next door, you can have some of my stuff, just take what you need. I'll be downstairs ordering food. Holler if ya need anything.'

Seth can't remember standing under the warm spray of running water, putting on slightly too big clothes that smell like sex and safety alike or lying down after failing to rinse off the feeling of being tainted forever.

But when he opens his eyes the next time the only light in the room comes from the moon. He looks at his sweat-covered hands, wondering why he's sitting upright in the bed and shaking, the image of a masked guy burned into his retina. Seth's fingers roam over his body, searching for a stab wound that isn't there.

He's no longer in peril, everything is alright. No one is out to kill him anymore. Hopefully. One can never be sure. Seth just prays that he'll never stop seeing the good in people first and foremost. He'd really hate if this experience ruins his whole life.

Though Dean is the prime example of a guardian angel walking on earth amongst all the normal people.

The other is lying next to him, no blanket covering him since Seth hogged it in his sleep, wearing boxer shorts and wifebeater, three cats sleeping soundly at his feet. All four inhabitants of this house trust him enough to let him stay here in their sanctuary without surveilling him.

He watches his savior – wait, didn't they declare themselves boyfriends? Man, what a bizarre night – dozing and finally has enough time to take in Dean's looks in all their glory. An air of wildness surrounds him even in his slumber and Seth can't help but stare at Dean, already feeling himself taking a shine to him.

After almost touching the man to make sure he's still there, that this isn't just some illusion, he glances around, conceiving that the room is the exact opposite of his own. Clothes are scattered all over the floor, the desk can hardly be seen under the heaps of paper, books pile up on the nightstand.

It's chaotic but charming at the same time. Seth could get used to staying here. He also wouldn't mind cuddling up to Dean, basking in his body warmth and alluring scent for the rest of his life. Perhaps he's found himself some lasting happiness.

Nuzzling Dean's throat he sets his heart on the man, completely fine with his decision when the other hugs him close to his chest in his sleep.


End file.
